In Another Life
by WalkingInMemphis
Summary: One Shot.... How Ian Howe, the young, rich, innocent daddy's boy became the hardened criminal he is today. R


Disclaimer: I don't own NT. damn

A/N-Er, just a few quick comments here. This story is in no way related to my other NT story Fortune and Glory. I just love writing Ian. I don't remember if Shaw is British or not, so I pretended he was. Bear with me. Again, I'm not sure if Shaw was his last or first name. err, I think that's all. Enjoy and please review and tell me if you liked it (or not)

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Nine year old Ian Howe waited patiently at the dinner table, wishing that for once in his life his father would return home on time. His mother chastised him gently as she saw him try to sneak a piece of pasta into his mouth.

"Ian, your father will be here any minute! I know you're hungry, but we should eat as a family."

"Mom," he whined in typical nine-year-old fashion. "Dad's _always_ late, would it kill us to start without him?"

"Your father has a very important job." his mother scolded. "One day you're going to grow up to be just like him and realize how busy he must have been, and how much he must have loved you to take so much time out of his work to eat a family dinner every night."

Her scolding barely made it to Ian's ears. He had, of course, heard this a billion times. Father was important, yada yada yada- he was _hungry_.

"When I grow up," Ian declared. "I'm going to be so rich that I can stay home all day and eat and never go to work!"

His mother chuckled. "Of course you will dear."

The door burst open and Ian sighed in relief, digging into his food.

"I'm home!" came a muffled call from across the expansive London mansion, and Ian's mother beamed. "We're in the kitchen honey! Hurry up before the food gets cold!"

Connor Howe strode into the room, his cheeks still pink from the harsh weather outside. He was a tall, confident man who always wore expensive tailored suits and tasteful ties. Once when Ian had asked him why he didn't just go to work in his pajamas, he had replied "Because Ian, my job requires that I have to be intimidating. Your dad owns the most successful insurance company in London, so people have to respect me and more importantly, be intimidated by me. Remember that, because someday, you're going to be running the company and doing the same thing."

Ian had accepted it as a challenge that he would have to grow up exactly like his father. He was the smartest child in his grade, and there was no brain puzzle or mind teaser that he couldn't solve. Connor took enormous pride in his son's cleverness.

"He's a chip off the old block." he would brag to the other executives who would sometimes come over for fancy dinners. "He's going to put me to shame when he takes over the company."

Ian's mother laid out his dad's dinner in front of him. Ian clamored for his attention with food in his mouth.

"Dad! Guess what!"

His father smiled enthusiastically. "What?"

"I got a 100 on my spelling test!" Ina pronounced proudly, pointing to the piece of lined paper that he had stuck to the steel refrigerator. The torn and ratted piece of paper looked foreign against the brushed stainless steel of the refrigerator, but by his father's pride you would think that it was a priceless artifact.

"Excellent, Ian. I expected no less."

"I started that book you gave me, but I don't understand a lot of it." Ian confessed. "It has a lot of big words we haven't done yet."

"Connor," his mother began. "I think Charles Dickens is a little too old for him..."

"Nonsense." his father said. "Just look up all the words you don't understand, and you'll struggle through it. You'll be the first third grader ever to read Dickens, I'll tell you that. When I was a boy, I had already finished Oliver Twist and A Tale of Two Cities by the fourth grade!"

Ian resolved to try harder after dinner. After all, if his father had finished two Dickens's by fourth grade, he would finish three.

"I'll finish it Dad." he promised. "It's not _that_ hard."

"That's my boy. Why, when you're eighteen you'll be smarter than I am now!"

Ian laughed. "No one's smarter than you are, Dad!"

And it was true. After all, they were one of the richest families in London, because of his Dad's business. Ian could only hope that he would keep the business going afterit was passed on to him. Every time he felt a waver of doubt, he quashed it with the memory of every time someone told him he was exactly like his father. It was the best praise anyone could give, he knew. The best praise anyone could give.

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Eighteen year old Ian Howe had no idea where he was. Some part of London, obviously, but a side he had never seen before. At this point he really didn't care. He just kept running ignoring the stitch in his side and the curious looks onlookers were giving him at his expensive attire.

His father had insisted that he come to the trial this afternoon. He had even pulled him out of school, something that was rarely done.

"It's important that you see this one, son." he had explained to him. "It's an ugly case, but you need to learn the responsibilities of my position."

Ian had agreed to come immediately. He attended a lot of the trials involving his father's company, and had seen his father testify many, many times. He admired his steely determination and composure every time he came up onto the stand to "speak out in defense of my good corporation."

There were obviously many lawsuits. As an insurance company, people sued all the time when they were too lazy to get up and get their own money. Leeches, in Ian's opinion.

This trial had been different.

A father had been killed in a grisly car accident, a construction worker who was apparently standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had a wife and a son who was roughly Ian's age. When they asked for the money for his life insurance policy, they were denied because his father's company said that it was "suspicious".

"While I feel great remorse for Mrs. Peterson and her son," his father had testified. "Dennis Peterson's death was not an accident, it was suicide. He had placed himself in a spot in the road where it was inevitable that a car would hit him. His boss agrees with me, saying that Dennis was rash and going through a rough period in his life, including his son's conviction for assault."

Peterson's son sent a glare so deadly over to Ian's father that Ian was surprised he didn't run from the stand right then and there.

Ian himself had been sitting there in doubt. It really didn't sound like Mr. Peterson had been suicidal, or that his death was intentional. If it had been anyone else he would say that he was outright lying, but it was his father. His father was a pillar of justice, always instructing Ian to let his conscience guide him through life, not his greed.

The judge pronounced the verdict in favor of his father's company. Ian watched in horror as Peterson's son grimly escorted his sobbing mother out of the courtroom while his father grinned and shook hands with his fellow executives. How could they be so happy and victorious when they just denied a poor family money?

He approached his father after Connor was done celebrating with his partners. "Dad, what was that all about?" he choked out.

Connor waved his son's comment away "It was nothing, son. Just a bunch of money-mongers trying to squeeze out cash they don't deserve. They had a convincing case though." he lowered his voice and smiled at his son as if he was sharing a joke.

"We would have lost if I hadn't bribed the judge. He's an old friend though; he knows how these things work."

Ian couldn't keep the disbelieving tone out of his voice. "You _bribed the judge_?"

his father grew serious. "This is why I wanted you to come, Ian. It's not easy owning this company. There are a lot of sacrifices I have to make."

Ian couldn't believe his ears. "Dad, the only one making a sacrifice was that family! You robbed them of the money they deserved!"

"It was a bad call for the agent to make," Connor admitted. "But I had to stick by and protect my company's image. Your image is the most important thing, Ian. It's wrong to bribe judge's and deny truthful claims, but I do it anyway, because I have an obligation to my company. I do whatever is necessary."

Ian was trying to digest all the information. "Then……the money laundering and fraud charges last year? They were-"

"All true. It's not a pretty world out there, son, you must learn that. I'll do whatever it takes to succeed, and if you want to run this company one day you must too."

Burning anger replaced confusion. "You're a liar and a criminal." Ian hissed. "All those childhood talks about telling the truth and standing up for what you believe in, they were all complete bullshit."

His father's eyes blazed. "Now see here…"

"Shut _up_, dad!" Ian yelled. The emptying courtroom quieted as heads turned to seek the source of the noise. His father looked furious.

"What dad." Ian sneered loudly. "Am I ruining your precious image? How many people in this court already know what a thieving bastard you are?"

Looking around, Ian saw some gaping executives, a guilty-looking lawyer, and a young man standing in the doorway.

Peterson's son.

His vindicated expression gave Ian enough courage to continue.

"So far, everyone I see here knows that you're a slimy, cheating weasel. The judge has probably been bribed by you enough times that he didn't even listen ot the trial. Your partners are right down there with you, swindling people for a living. And that kid over there realized it when you wouldn't give his family the money they needed to survive! What the hell was that money to you, dad?"

Ian paused to take a breath.

"So, the way I see it, I'm just stating what everyone else here knows. No need to look so surprised." Ian grabbed his backpack from the spectator benches and hoisted it over his shoulder.

"Your secret is safe with me, dad." he promised, and strode out of the courtroom.

Now, running through the streets of London, Ian decided that he wasn't going to go back to his father's house. Instead, he would continue what he had planned on being for years. He would be rich and successful. But he would never hide behind a moral image or a corporate name.

Ian Howe was still going to be exactly like his father.

He was going to become a criminal.

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Twenty year old Ian Howe fell to the ground as another yet punch was landed to his mouth. He spat out blood and grimaced .At the rate this guy was going, he wouldn't have any teeth left.

"You think you're clever, Howe?" The man above him sneered. "I know it was you who orchestrated that heist at Jones' Casino. You're going to return the money to me right now."

Ian coughed and wiped his mouth. "I have no idea what you're talking about." he said hoarsely.

The henchman's foot connected painfully with his stomach, and Ian let out a forced hybrid of a cough and a gasp.

"I think you do know." the henchman continued. "No one else could have thought up that elaborate a plan. My boss isn't stupid, and neither am I."

Ian snorted. "That's news to me."

Whatever other comeback he might have used was cut short by another kick to the stomach.

Through his nausea, Ian faintly heard someone yell something at the henchman before the man who had been kicking him was lying on the pavement next to him, moaning, and he was being helped up.

"I thought you could use some help there, mate."

Ian's eyes shot open at the man's British accent. In Los Angeles, he hadn't yet met any fellow Englishmen, which he considered a bonus. He didn't want to be recognized, though he seldom used his last name.

The man was almost his height, with dark eyes and closely shaven dark hair.

"Thanks." Ian muttered. "These casino blokes are assholes. No bloody idea what they're talking about."

The man grinned and Ian couldn't help but think that he looked eerily familiar.

"Actually, I happen to know that you did orchestrate that casino heist."

Ian looked at him in shock. "What the hell are you on about?"

The man grinned again. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Shaw. Shaw Peterson."

Ian's strange feelings of déjà vu cleared. "You're Dennis Peterson's son!" he exclaimed. "The one who lost to my father in trial!"

Shaw's eyes hardened. "My mother died a year later because of that. She couldn't stand the shame of my father's "suicide""

Ian looked down at his slightly bloody hands. "I'm sorry."

"S'not your fault, it's your wanker of a father's" Shaw responded. "And the only pleasure I had that day was seeing you tell him off. Later I was working down here and I heard about you. You've earned yourself quite a reputation."

He certainly had. Every casino or wealthy company in Las Vegas feared the plots of young Ian Howe.

"I notice that you're a little low on manpower though." Shaw continued. "That much was obvious by you getting pummeled by that muscleman over there."

"What are you proposing?" Ian asked.

"Be my partner. You make the plan and I act it out. We split everything 50/50."

Looking back, accepting Shaw's offer was the smartest decision Ian ever made. They were the perfect team of brains and brawn. Together they flawlessly acted out dozens of heists and frauds all over the country. Sure, they hired men to help, but they were incompetent and the two often made jokes at the brainless henchman's expenses. No matter what, they always stuck together.

They also became close friends. Working closely, they had to learn quickly how to put up with each other's shit. Ian grew used to Shaw's many, _many_ one night stands, and Shaw got used to Ian's daddy issues.

It was inevitable that one day Ian would realize that he didn't want to be a criminal anymore.

The day came when thirty two year old Ian Howe was watching his wide screen plasma TV in his and Shaw's lavish flat.

"_We are sad to announce the tragic death of Connor Howe, the owner of Howe Insurance. Mr. Howe suffered from a heart attack and died this morning at two in the morning. Connor Howe was a hardworking man who built his company from nothing….."_

The reporter's droning faded to a buzz in Ian's ears as he tried to comprehend the fact that his father was dead. That the one symbol of hate in his life, the one thing he could always count on to despise, was gone.

"Shaw!" he called weakly to the kitchen. Shaw ignored him, talking on the phone with some girl named Christie.

"SHAW!"

Shaw hung up the phone in annoyance. "What!" he snapped, walking into the living room.

"My…….My father's dead."

Shaw's face turned to stone. He stared at the TV, unsure of what to say.

Ian had made another decision. "Shaw?"

"Yeah?"

"We're done."

"What?" he asked, confused.

"We're not doing anymore heists. Nothing illegal. I don't have to be a criminal anymore."

Shaw was astonished, but strangely understood him. He knew about Ian's decision to become a criminal was centered around his father. Now that his father was dead…..

Shaw also knew that if Ian was going to stop, so was he.

"So," he ventured, throwing himself down on the couch next to Ian. "What are we going to do now?"

Ian looked at him in gratitude for accepting his decision.

"I was thinking we could sponsor stuff." he started. "You know, those guys who need funding to go out and find stuff. I read this book once, when I was a kid..." his eyes were unfocused as he remembered his childhood.

"My dad made me read it. Treasure Island. I did always did want to find buried treasure….."

And the rest, as you know, is history.

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Please review! This just popped into my head one day, so I want to know if it's just another one of my crazy daydreams or somthing with a scap of meaning!


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